Grasping
by Victoria Bitter
Summary: **SLASH** In the aftermath of "Ladies Man", emotions run high.


Blue eyes, rimmed in gold.  
  
Gray eyes, rimmed in ebony.  
  
The blue eyes are dry now, but they scream, they howl, they rage like a violent ocean, dark and dilated with adrenaline. In them, one can see the narrow escape mirrored, see the blood of the woman that nearly  
stained his hands and still stains his heart. Traces of salt water bead on the lashes, glistening like brutal gemstones in the light filtering in from the street lamp.   
  
The beads grow, swell. The gold lashes come down as the fine brows tighten, lines crumpling into the edges of the eyes. A gasp. Breath shuddering in and out in desperate tremors, trying for a last heartbeat not to do it. Not to give in. Not to cry.   
  
Men don't cry.  
  
The heart behind the blue eyes rebels. Wrenching its way up his throat, the pain and the guilt escape in a deep sob, a gutteral, wounded sound. Another sob. A cry, soft and thin. The beads have grown to rivers, cutting silver trails down angular cheeks that haven't been shaven in too long.   
  
Blonde head bows forward. Resting the forehead against the cool, slightly tacky leather of the steering wheel as thin shoulders shudder beyond control. The cries grow further, and now even the pretense of control has been abandoned. Humiliation of tears is lost in their cause, lost in the ineluctable guilt that has blurred every thought and emotion into a single haze of what if and why couldn't I. The sobs trip over each  
other, clutching and hurting in the chest, caught into choking sounds that are almost coughs as breath is fought for.   
  
Gray eyes reflect the pain, not knowing the true depth of it, but hurting all the more for being locked outside, for being unable to offer balm onto the bleeding wounds. Dark lashes fan like Spanish lace over creamy cheeks, the gray hidden. Nothing to do, nothing to say, nothing to think to ease the waves of guilt pouring from the blue-eyed man.   
  
One thick arm reaches out, draping across narrow shoulders. Weathered fingers pat gently, trying to offer some rhythmic solace where he knows he can give none. The gesture seems pitiful, meaningless, even insulting. What more can he give?   
  
Not taught.   
  
Not prepared.   
  
Not for this.   
  
For when it can't be held in anymore. For when the hurt is bleeding all over you and you can't stop it and you can't help it and you can't see it and you can't touch it but it is and its there and you'd give anything absolutely anything to make it go away.   
  
Oh God. Blonde head falls against broad chest clad in flannel. Oh God.  
  
Now what?  
  
Without thinking, arms fold across shuddering back. Clutching each other. Moisture gathers behind the ebony lashes. Can't be this close to the pain. Can't push it away.   
  
Coalescing together, two pains melting into one, burning brighter. Burning hotter. Immolating souls. Charring hearts. Cremating spirits beyond hope and into wordless despair.   
  
Blonde head and tawny flesh tilts up. Dark curls and milky flesh tilts down. Moist tongue runs over reddened, bitten lips. Mouths meet. Taste the tears. Blue eyed tears. Gray eyed tears. Golden tears. Dark tears. Mingled beyond recognition.   
  
No one thinking of the meaning of it. Is it wrong? Is it right? Feels wrong and right and good and bad but what does it matter, because its contact. It's contact, someone else to wrap the hurt around.   
  
Lips crush together tighter. Hands explore faces. One set of hands like bird's claws, thin and delicate and desperate, chewed nails leaving reddened trails over clean-shaven cheeks. One set like plowman's hands,  
thick knuckles and callused palms, gentle as an artist, caressing fine boned face and golden stubble like delicate orchid's petal.   
  
Tentative, tongue tests out. Encounters lips which part, invite. Dancing. Perfect rhythm, perfect unity. Don't even need to ask, don't even need to question the rightness, because the rightness is there, unspoken.  
Harder now, faster. Taste and feel and breathe and caress and kiss away the pain.   
  
Make it go away make it go away make it go away make it go away makeitgoaway.  
  
Lips part. Breathing hard. Ribcages heaving. Gray eyes open. Blue eyes open. Fingers trace moisture down cheeks.   
  
Oh God. Oh God. What have we done?  
  
Come back.  
  
THE END 


End file.
